


make a wish

by followsrabbit



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:12:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followsrabbit/pseuds/followsrabbit
Summary: "Were you ever going to tell me about your birthday?"(Set during the season two hiatus.)





	make a wish

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NOORA_

_YOU’RE 17!!!!_

_LET’S PARTY TONIGHT_

_HAPPY BDAY, GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!_  

Her friends’ group message had started beaming from her phone a minute after midnight, and still hadn’t stopped. Rolling over in bed, Noora raised her eyes from the blinding screen and wondered how much of a buzz kill she’d sound like if she reminded Eva, Vilde, Sana, and Chris that it was a  _Wednesday_ —never mind if she admitted that she didn’t actually care about celebrating her birthday.

Noora had just run a hand through her shower-damp hair and decided to pretend that she’d slept through her buzzing phone, when another name flashed across the screen.  _Willhelm._  (She should probably change his contact info to  _William_. At some point. Whenever his frustration with the name stopped making her grin.)

And she could still bury her face into her pillow and respond the next morning, just like she’d set on, but…

Noora grabbed her phone from her bedside table again, and slid it unlocked. Her eyelids and fingertips suddenly felt to restless for sleep.

**One New Message from Willhelm:**

_Were you ever going to tell me about your birthday?_

She scrunched her lips, and slumped against the mattress. No. Not really. Whatever she and William were doing right now, it was only days old—too new for variables like birthday stress and gifts and cards.

Mid-thought, another message lit the screen, stealing her focus and smoothing her face.

_I had to find out from Facebook._

She squirmed beneath her sheets. Noora kind of hated Facebook sometimes.

_Are you stalking me?_ she texted, teased back, still fidgeting, hoping that he’d take the bait and abandon all talk of April 6th. (Temporarily.) (William never really seemed to give up on anything, least of all with her.)

Almost immediately, two new messages gleamed at the white comforter.

_You’re the one who was in my apartment all weekend_

_My bedroom_

Noora rolled her eyes.  _You invited me!_

Two more messages shook her phone, each appearing even more quickly than the last.

_Good point_

_You sound more like my girlfriend than my stalker_

Pressing her lips together, Noora hid her smile in her pillow, even though William wasn’t around to smirk at her for it. She’d protest—but her protests felt sillier now that she  _was_  in fact behaving like his girlfriend. Kissing him and texting him and sneaking off into his car after school.

So she evaded.  _I’m sleeping_ , Noora messaged instead.

Seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

_Birthday dinner at 7?_

And again, even though, he couldn’t see her—Noora shook her head.  _No,_ she sent back.

A few less seconds later…

_6? 8?_

She burrowed her head into her pillow, sent one last text message, and then surrendered her phone to her bedside table.

_Good night, Willhelm._

* * *

The next morning, Noora had just capped her lipstick and turned away from the mirror when her phone buzzed to life.

**One New Message from Willhelm:**

_I’m outside_

Of course he was. Ignoring the curve of her lips, the kick of her heartbeat, Noora picked up her backpack and walked out of her room, out of her apartment, and out to the street. The sun glinted against William’s Porsche when she opened the door and slid inside.

“Happy birthday.” Grey hood pulled up over his head, dark hair spilling into his eyes, William gave her a small smile and a bouquet of flowers. He leaned over the pink and white petals to slide his lips against hers, quick and casual. Because ‘hello’ kisses were something they did now, apparently.

Noora slanted her face down into the tulips when he pulled away, half to smell them and half to hide her answering smile. “Not roses?”  _So_  fragrant. The petals brushed her nose when she inhaled again.

His lips twitched. “Too cliché.”

She rolled her eyes, waited a few seconds, and then admitted, “I love tulips.” Flowers in general. She _knew_ they were a cliché gift, no matter the kind, but sometimes things became cliché for a reason—because they were beautiful and indulgent and thoughtful.

William didn’t miss a beat before pulling a thermos out of the cup holder for her.

Raising both eyebrows, Noora took one short sip, then a second, longer one. “And cocoa.” Another indulgence; no nutritional value, all the sugar. She took a third sip, lips curved wide. (It was just a bit cold, just how she liked it.)

He studied her as she swallowed gulp after gulp of lukewarm cocoa, the lines of his face as unreadable as ever. "But not your birthday.” As intent as ever.

Noora ran her tongue across her lips, quick as a dart. They were still parked. She could slip out of the car right now to run the flowers upstairs and into a vase, and evade the question completely, but—Noora tucked her hair behind her ear instead.

It wasn’t that she’d never celebrated her birthday before. Her parents might not have been attentive, but they’d still thrown her parties when she was younger. Parties with themes she hadn’t cared about and presents she hadn’t asked for, but still more than plenty of children had, which meant that she didn’t get to stitch a sob story out of their disinterest.

She swallowed, tried again. “It’s just a day.”

William caught the ends of her hair with his fingers. “Yes. Your birthday.”

He said that like it meant something. Like it meant something to him. Noora gazed back into his dark eyes for just a moment, taking in the way they searched hers. It was on the tip of her tongue to say,  _I should put the tulips in a vase before we go._

William beat her to speech. “Drive somewhere with me.”

She stared at him. Blinked at him. Almost laughed at him, before shaking her head instead. “We have school.”

He shrugged. “Or we could go to Lillehammer.”

This time, laughter did leak from her mouth when she tried to exhale. “Lillehammer?”

He carried on, unperturbed by her skepticism, still playing with her short hair. “We could go hiking.” His lips haunted her cheek. “Walk around one of the parks.” The corner of her mouth. “Or we could just drive.”

Then his lips touched hers, firm and warm and smiling. And even though she should be protesting, rolling her eyes, outlining a bullet point list of all the reasons they needed to go to school today—

Noora closed her eyes, curled her fingers through his hair, leaned over the center console, and kissed him back. Kissed him harder.

( _How_ did he know that she loved hiking?)

William didn’t stop smiling when she pulled away, eventually, for a breath; only tracked his thumb against her lower lip. “Is that a yes?”

She kept her eyes shut for just a second longer. “It’s a  _Wednesday_.”

“And not even eight in the morning. Lillehammer is two hours away. Plenty of time.”

Her eyes dashed down to her phone screen. “We both have school in five minutes.”

“So?”

He was  _ridiculous_. But maybe she was ridiculous too, because when she opened her mouth again, all she said was, “You’re not allowed to sing happy birthday.”

William didn’t quite grin, but she could see the temptation lurking.

“And no more presents.”

Still looking incredibly satisfied, William shrugged. This did nothing to reassure her that he hadn’t somehow managed to find a ridiculously elaborate gift for her this morning—he’d already given her flowers; no one had ever given her flowers before—but didn’t straighten her lips either. “Just a regular April 6th.”

She took another sip from his thermos. When he kissed her again, she could feel the full width of his grin stealing the leftover cocoa from her lips.

“ _Okay_.” 

* * *

On April 7th, her friends plied her with presents at lunch—new tubes of red lipstick and a new turtleneck and a new book and a batch of homemade vanilla cupcakes.

(Also questions about where she had been the day before.) (Noora pled sick.)

From across the cafeteria, William shot her an amused glance over their heads.

_Happy birthday_ , he mouthed to her.

Her eye roll felt slightly diminished by her smile.


End file.
